Okay, so maybe I went too far.
I was so excited by experimenting with my new shackles, that I kept making it more and more difficult for me to free myself. I set up an area in the basement for this purpose. It looked innocent enough – merely a small but strong hook in the wall that was hardly noticeable, and a stack of books on the floor. When I was home alone, I would sneak down to the basement. There I would undress (down to my underwear at first, but as I got bolder, completely naked) and shackle my wrists. Climbing up onto the books and stretching my arms up high, I would loop the chain between the shackle cuffs up over the hook on the wall.
By varying the number of books under my feet, I could stretch my arms farther and farther upwards. This of course enhanced the feeling of being a prisoner. Sometimes I would stand with my face towards the wall, imagining horrible things being done to me, such as being whipped. At other times I would face away from the wall, and imagine being interrogated by my captors. I left the key in the shackle lock, to make it easier to undo them.
Then I got the bright idea of hammering a nail into the wall, and hanging the key to the shackles on that nail. This was off to the side from the hook, so I would have to slide my tower of books sideways with my feet and then climb up to retrieve the key. The amount of freedom that I was given due to the chain between the shackle cuffs let me reach this far while still being secured to the hook.
My arms became more and more accustomed to being stretched upwards and bearing my weight. Finally, I was able to stand on the floor itself with my arms stretched up high above me, almost dangling helplessly from the hook. The excitement was amazing! The feeling of being naked and helpless was almost like a drug, and I needed more each week. My erotic fantasies, driven by my self bondage, grew in leaps and bounds.
Thank goodness it was a strong hook. My muscles strained mightily, tugging at it and pulling at it. At times I would shout defiance at my imaginary captors. Or I might whimper and plead for them to stop what they were doing and free me. Verbalizations added to my thrill, as well as physically struggling. My body often glistened with a sheen of sweat after my exertions. And, my thighs often glistened with the sheen of their own – the excitement generated by my imagination made me lubricate often and copiously. I thrilled to the feeling of my pussy juices trickling down my thighs as I struggled. I built quite a satisfying fantasy world in that basement as time went on. And all went well. Until that fateful day!
I was not expecting my housemate, Susan, to come home for hours. Normally, when she went to the mall, she spent the entire afternoon there. So I thought I had plenty of time for another session of my 'game', my body tingling with anticipation. Racing down into the basement, I removed and tossed my clothes aside, locked on my wrist shackles, placed the key on the nail and looped my chains over the hook, so I faced away from the wall. I don't really know how much time passed as I indulged my current fantasy, but I know it could not have been hours. Suddenly I heard Susan's car in the driveway!
I panicked! Scrambling up the stack of books to reach the key, my feet slipped! Books scattered! Frantically I reached out with my toes to try to drag the books together, trying to pull them on top of each other with my feet. I had to reach that key! Now my struggles were real! I heard the door open upstairs. I heard my Susan call my name, saying she was home, but I dared not answer her as I usually do. I heard her footsteps walking around upstairs, probably looking for me. So far, I had managed to get three books on top of each other. Still not enough to reach the key, and I was frantically scrambling for more. Perhaps the scraping of the books on the floor alerted her. Some strange sound from the basement! My heart almost stopped as I heard the basement door open and her voice saying, "Who's there?"